


Jewel

by GaleandRandy



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Brian and Justin - Freeform, M/M, QAF (US)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-18
Updated: 2013-07-18
Packaged: 2017-12-20 14:18:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/888241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaleandRandy/pseuds/GaleandRandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><img/><br/>It's not because he wants to explore his 'feminine' side and it isn't because he's an 'effeminate gay', he just knows that it's about art.<br/>Brian and Justin meet and have an undeniable connection but Brian isn't looking for someone <i>this different</i> and Justin isn't looking for anyone at all, especially not a man who is a bigger slut than himself and who can't see past Jewel and remember that underneath her, is always Justin.<br/>Can they can accept one another and in doing so learn to accept all their desires?<br/><b>Timeline:</b> This is a canon characterization alternate 'fate' of Brian and Justin, but likely there may be a bend in character once in a while. This will involve many of the characters from QAF and events from canon.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **More Summary** : Justin isn't yet comfortable with himself, he's a confident gay man but accepting Jewel isn't easy for him. Jewel is stuck being a Princess because Justin isn't ready to allow her to be Queen and she isn't the only one in limbo. He really doesn't have any idea what he wants to do with his life, he doesn't have focus or direction because he doesn't trust himself. The idea of finding a man who he can trust to accept him is definitely not on his to-do list, he's well aware of what many gay men would think of him if they saw inside his closet. He's taken a few chances, but he learned quickly that as long as Jewel exists, he isn't likely to meet anyone worth more than a quick fuck or suck.  
> Brian is at a crossroads in his life, he's bored with his routines and no matter where he goes in search of a trick, he never finds _him_ , 'the one got away'. His brain isn't even aware that he's looking for anyone in particular but his body knows and he's smart enough to know that something has to change if he's ever going to be satisfied with his life. All of his friends have moved on and making fun of their 'stepford' romances has passed the point of pathetic and ventured into acceptance, with perhaps a whisper of jealousy. Many aspects of his life have changed rapidly over the last eight years and the yearning he feels for something 'different' is too strong to ignore any longer.  
> Thank you to: [](http://momentsgoneby.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://momentsgoneby.livejournal.com/)**momentsgoneby** for the artwork, this story is for you and me. This may not be everyone's 'cup of tea' which I'm sure you've figured out by the banner and summary but for those who take the leap, I hope you enjoy the journey.

  


**Jewel  
Prologue**

_Find out who you are and do it on purpose,_ ~Dolly Parton

**2003**

Brian Kinney knows ass. He knows them inside and out. He knows that muscular, firm ass cheeks ripple two or three times with every thrust from his pelvis against them and he knows that a bubbly ass doesn’t have time to stop vibrating in between pushes back inside it. Though the type of men he’s attracted to, rarely vary much outside the realm of stereotypical ‘hot men’, he has experienced practically every type of ass around his cock and felt it with his hands or tasted it with his lips and tongue. Many of the men belonging to these asses, most of them, are completely forgettable. Brian recalls the worst asses easier than he recalls the best ones, his subconscious inventory ignites a gut or cock reaction readily available to warn him if he dares to think about trying out an ass he might have had or had no fun having and on sight has forgotten.

He does have a favorite, remembers the fuck clearly and coincidentally he does know the man’s name, but that’s only because he was client. Frank Humphrey, CEO of Humphrey Enterprises. If circumstances had been in his favor, he would’ve consulted the man for a return fuck, unfortunately, a week after receiving a lucrative contract with the man; Frank Humphrey went and got himself killed in a boating accident in Cabo. Still, four years after, the man’s butt remains number one on Brian’s list.

Until tonight. No, Brian hasn’t fucked the ass he’s been staring at for twenty-minutes, but he _knows_ that it will be the best ass he’s ever be inside just by looking at it. His instincts rarely fail him in this regard and when they did, Brian was usually piss drunk. Right now, he watches _his_ soon-to-be ‘best piece of ass’, sway, hips jerking to the beat of the music from the catwalk looking over the dance floor. He doesn’t have the best view from there and needs to get closer. The blond he is watching has yet to turn away from the girl he’s dancing with or to do more than push away his admirers, never turning around so Brian can see his face completely. What he has seen of it from the distance could be an illusion due to the lighting and shadows. If the blond is as pretty as he looks it’ll be a bonus but he figures ‘buttafaces’ are one of the top reasons the doggy style position was invented. It won’t matter if the ass is attached to a man with fucked up teeth, acne or a lazy eye, he wants the ass, not the man. Usually he doesn’t have to stoop to engage in such an encounter so if the man has a good face too, he’ll call it a bonus and call it a night.

The beginning of the rest of the night.

Brian needs to size up his prey before he goes in for the thrill and so he takes off down the stairs and gets a closer look standing to the left of the dance floor, the blond is still hot and worth pursuing. He goes for it, gliding through the mass of half-dressed men; turning down a half-dozen offers for sex by the time he stands closer to where he’d last seen the blond. He’s one of the taller men in the massive crowd and uses his height to effortlessly look at the men surrounding him. After three scans of the area where he is sure the blond was located, he realizes that his prey scampered off while he was in the blind spot between the staircase overhang and the dance floor. Hard cock leading the way, Brian saunters toward the closest staircase and stands on the third step to look around the entire club. He can’t see the man belonging to the ass anywhere. Brian will not troll the bathrooms for a fuck and that is the only place he can imagine the blond could have disappeared to unless he left Babylon.

Giving up on the blond for the night, certain the fresh meat will return to his club another time, Brian grabs a young brunet with a decent ass and a pretty face and takes him to the backroom. The brunet turns out to be a great fuck but the minute Brian pulls out of him, he realizes that the emptiness he’s spent years chasing away with all that comes from a good fuck is still there. And he’s still yearning to sink into the blond that evaded him.

He composes himself, walks out of the backroom and makes his way to the bar where Emmett, Ted, Michael and Ben are standing. Like most of the crowd at Babylon, all of their eyes are on him waiting for what they know will come once he joins them. Tonight though, he doesn’t feel like reveling in their praise, awe and jealous disdain he receives after accomplishing the hunt and capture of the trick. He doesn’t think he’ll have anything to say when Michael will predictably question, ‘So, how was he?’ because it’s all so suddenly, startlingly pointless. And when did his life become so predicable anyway?

Refusing to allow another night of expected events to continue, Brian gives Michael a small wave and walks toward the exit. Tomorrow he’ll be back at Babylon and he’ll probably engage in behavior that isn’t new and isn’t as thrilling as it once was. Tonight he’s going to go home and try to extract whatever it is that’s inside him making the empty feeling so prevalent. He’s sure that it’s perfectly acceptable and normal for any man that’s out on the prowl and at the top of their game to need a little bit of a rest period every now and then. A couple of joints, some late night indulgence in junk food and a black and white movie will curb his appetite and silence the little voice in his head that asks for more. For _different_.

♦♦♦♦♦

Justin Taylor knows art. He’s pretty sure that if he were insanely rich and able to go without sleep, he’d engage in some form of it twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. He knows art history, can correctly tell you the artist of a painting, sketch or sculpture with barely a glance at the work, both from the masters and the lesser known artists. He’s studied a lot but his knowledge doesn’t only come from books and his obsession with visiting every art museum in the United States… and he hopes, someday the world. There’s something inside of him that’s different, okay, there’s a lot of things about Justin that are different, but when it comes to artistic expression, he has a passion for it that’s completely unrivaled by any other artist he’s ever known. He wishes he had one person in his life that could understand, is in a constant struggle to accept the solitary feeling certain parts of his artistic fervor cause, or to keep reaching out and hope he finds someone who doesn’t think he’s crazy, an attention whore, confused, sick or one of the many other disparaging remarks he’s heard from nearly every person in his life.

When he first received his acceptance letter to the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Arts, he was struggling to accept all of his desires. The knowledge that he was far more diverse than he’d first believed came as a bit of a shock to him and everyone in his life. He was a proud gay man but this ‘thing’, when it first began; he didn’t know it would change his life so much. It began with a Halloween party on PIFA campus his sophmore year. He didn’t feel anything deep about it, it was only meant to be fun. But after he returned the dress he borrowed to Daphne and packed away the make-up and hair rollers, he thought about them, thought about how he felt that night, more often than he liked. Shame, something he wasn’t used to feeling, kept him from looking at the photograph his best friends had taken with him that night.

A week into his junior year the opportunity to ‘innocently’ explore what he’d been denying himself arose. Justin had just been laid off from his job at a bookstore and though his mother paid for his schooling, he couldn’t fathom relying on her to give him spending money. He was down to his last five dollars, moaning to his new roommate, Tatum, about not receiving a single call for an interview to any of the twenty places he’d applied.

“I really shouldn’t have spent my last twenty to go clubbing last night,” he spoke, shaking his head. “Thank god I have a PIFA meal card or I wouldn’t be able to eat this week.”

“It’s been a stressful week,” Tatum said gently. “You needed to let off some steam.”

“I’m seriously fucked,” Justin groaned. “All the campus jobs are taken and no one else wants to hire a student because my hours aren’t flexible.”

Tatum grabbed a flyer from his backpack and handed it to him. “You can make a lot of money doing this. I saw you at that Halloween party last year, you looked great.”

Justin’s heartbeat raced and he felt the same stirrings of inspiration ignite within him that he usually only felt when he was absorbed in a painting. He forced himself to ignore them. “No,” he said, laughing nervously, “I’m not gonna do that.”

“Why not?” Tatum asked, having no idea of the hidden hunger and shame Justin felt due to the suggestion.

“Because, I’m _not_ a Drag Queen,” Justin said simply. “And I don’t even have anything to wear,” he added.

Tatum gave him a wide grin, his dark brown eyes sparkling. “Come to my room,” he said, his tone leaving no room for arguments.

Justin’s first week of classes had been extremely busy and though he’d had a few conversations with Tatum last year when he saw him at house parties or other PIFA functions, they didn’t know one another. He felt weird going into his bedroom, they were sacred spaces when you shared a tiny dorm with a stranger. His freshmen year roommate Robert had been extremely antisocial and not once had Justin gone into his room. Hesitantly, he followed Tatum into his room.

Tatum opened his small closet and motioned Justin to come closer when he’d stopped just inside the doorway. “Your ass is definitely better than mine so you probably can’t fit into much of what I have, but I think you’ll fit into a skirt I have. I just have to find it. I really think you could be the perfect Britney.”

“Britney?” Justin questioned, lost in the clothing he saw in Tatum’s closet. Dresses, skirts, sparkly tops and swimsuits packed the tiny space. Tatum wasn’t feminine at all and he dressed in upscale men’s clothing, so seeing that he owned what looked to be an entire woman’s wardrobe was shocking to Justin.

“Spears of course,” Tatum said and produced a blue plaid skirt. “Here, try it on.”

Justin gripped onto the funny looking hanger and chanced a look at the size. “This is a small. I don’t think I’ll fit this.”

Tatum stopped rifling through his closet and placed his hands around Justin’s waist, his fingertips nearly met. “It’ll fit.”

Sweat broke out on Justin’s upper lip as he gave in and touched the soft cotton skirt and then ran his fingers around the lace textured bottom.

“It’ll look great with this,” Tatum announced, producing a cornflower blue button-up short sleeved shirt. “You know, you don’t need to be Britney. You’re going to look better than her and you can be a lot more innocent if you’re just you.”

Tatum completely ignored the protests falling from Justin’s mouth. Or at least the look of despair, because actually, Justin wasn’t saying no. He was feeling too many mixed emotions to form words. In a dazed state, he followed Tatum around his room as he dug out different items of clothing. His fingers explored the pieces of clothing, taking in the different textures and as he saw how the different colors and patterns of the clothing would work together, something indescribable shifted inside of him, and he thought, ‘I could be a piece of art’.

Tatum took him by the shoulders and shoved him into the bathroom. “You’re going to be so hot. Your hair is pretty long; we can probably just blow it back for now.” He brushed his fingers through Justin’s hair and smiled at him in the mirror. “You’re gonna do this, right?”

Justin stared at his reflection and instantly he imagined what he could do with his makeup and the stirrings of inspiration became tidal waves. “Yes, I’m gonna do it.”

“And you’re gonna win,” Tatum said.

“But what about you?” Justin asked, stripping to his boxers. He quickly stepped into the skirt, put on the shirt and added the blue sparkly scarf around his neck. “Don’t you want to do the competition?”

“Justin, Tatum Isis Avery is not an amateur, she’s a three year veteran,” he spoke this in a high-pitched falsetto voice. “Though you may be an amateur on paper, I think you’re going to be a natural Premier Queen. Just think, if you win, you’ll get two-thousand bucks and the offer to have a full-time spot on Riddle’s stage four nights a week with the rest of the Premier Queens. You’ll be making tips left and right and all the Queens share the night’s cover charge and that can be a couple hundred a night when we throw big events. Shit, I should’ve suggested this to you as soon you told me that you were looking for a job. I just wasn’t too sure you’d be into it, but then I remembered that you went to that Halloween party dressed in drag. What was it you called yourself?”

It wasn’t an evening gown or a wig and full painted face but still Justin thought he looked desirable, innocent, and feminine. His brain was going a mile-a-minute trying to accept the comfort he felt wearing the clothing. Daphne said he was beautiful all the time, his mother told him that too, he’d even heard a few guys refer to him as ‘pretty’ and last Halloween he’d felt gorgeous. But this would be different. He wasn’t going to be wearing a costume for a special holiday, this would become a part of him, and he knew it would because it already had. “Jewel,” Justin spoke in a quiet voice, but did not change his pitch. “My name is Jewel.”

♦♦♦♦♦

**2004**

Justin peaked around the corner of his bedroom into the shared living space of him and Tatum’s dorm. For the last four months, he’d been keeping what he was sure was the biggest secret of his life from her. It wasn’t because he thought she wouldn’t accept him, she’d always been his best confidant. They’d managed to maintain their best friend status through years of life altering events in both of their lives. Still, there was a difference between accepting and supporting his choices. He was scared that Daphne might think it was joke, or think that he was weird for enjoying the process and exposition of becoming a woman. Worse she might not like it and think that because she’d convinced him to go in drag before that she was to blame for his ‘change’.

Keeping it from her hadn’t been easy and he’d told himself that he had no choice but the truth was that Justin lacked confidence and conviction. He felt more vulnerable than he ever had in his life and he needed to be sure that he could really accept himself before he pushed it onto someone who could never understand how he felt. He still wasn’t there though.

After winning the Riddle Princess competition, he talked to Logan, the owner of Riddle and told him he couldn’t take the job offer. He’d wanted to say yes, he liked performing on the stage and loved the rush he got when he won but he didn’t think he was comfortable enough in Jewel’s skin to join the Premier Queens and figured he could live off the prize money while he continued to hunt for a job. Logan offered to keep the job open for a while to give Justin time to acclimate himself to the drag environment. With Tatum’s help, Justin had been doing just that. The nights he didn’t need to study and Tatum had a show; Justin accompanied him to Riddle as his assistant. He would help Tatum get dressed, give the DJ a cd with his songs on it and collect any stray money from the stage after Tatum walked off. Eagerly, he immersed himself in the backstage routine, learning who ‘owned’ a certain singer’s songs, how to apply makeup to hide his adam’s apple, to contour his chest for cleavage and he learned the most important and slightly disturbing part of drag, how to create a gaff and tuck his gentiles. All of it had been overwhelming and a little frightening at first, but most of the Queens were very welcoming and soon, even without ever donning a dress and makeup, Justin felt at ease but no matter how many times he rushed onto the stage to gather bills for Tatum, he didn’t think he was ready to do what all the Queens were encouraging him to do.

Justin was running out of time. Logan had phoned him last night and told him that he had another person in mind for the empty spot but he would prefer for Jewel to fill it. He gave Justin two days to come to a decision. Then there was Daphne, whom he’d told too many lies to in the past four months and who had run into him and Tatum at the mall while Tatum was holding up a short black dress against Justin’s body. Tatum, who had kept Justin’s secret and in doing so hadn’t told Daphne that he was a Drag Queen, had no choice but to tell Daphne that he did drag. Daphne of course began to ask tons of questions and seemed extremely excited about it, hadn’t even blanched. Justin wasn’t sure she’d be the same with him because she barely knew Tatum and her reaction was inspired by curiosity and novelty. Daphne wanted to know his drag name, where he performed and when she could come to see him. Tatum wasn’t used to lying and though he tried to make his shows sound uninteresting so that Daphne wouldn’t want to go, Daphne persisted and declared that she and Justin would be going to the next one.

The next performance was Friday, which coincidentally was also the same day he had to tell Logan whether or not he would take the job. After talking things over with Tatum, and a lot of deep inward reflection, he finally decided on his course of action. Justin asked Daphne to meet them at their dorm a couple hours before they were supposed to go to the show. He figured that if things went bad, it would give him some time to compose himself before he went to Riddle and accepted the job.

For the last hour, Tatum had been helping Justin transform into Jewel. He’d decided on such a drastic course of action because he hadn’t been able to think of words that might convey his need to be Jewel. He still didn’t completely understand it himself. Seeing Daphne sitting on the sofa, looking completely care-free and having no idea what was coming, Justin began to second guess his plan. He ran into the bathroom where Tatum was packing away his makeup and told him, “I can’t do it.”

Tatum turned Justin so he would face the mirror and told him firmly, “You’re already doing it. Look at yourself, Jewel. You’re beautiful and I know you feel beautiful right now.”

Justin shook his head. “No, I feel…” He couldn’t put it into words.

“You feel a lot of other crazy emotions too because of fear but I think you don’t have anything to be afraid of from that girl out there. She’s your best friend, you said she didn’t blink an eye when you told her you were gay and she didn’t care when I told her about Tatum Isis.”

“Justin!” Daphne knocked on the bathroom door. “What’s going on? Are you and Tatum in there fucking.”

Justin extracted himself from Tatum’s hold and even though his face was painted to the extreme, he could still see the blush rising on his cheeks. Daphne knew damn well that he was a virgin.

“Nothing like that going on in here,” Tatum called back, grinning devilishly. “Justin needed a pep talk is all.”

“So something is wrong,” Daphne said. “Justin, you sounded like shit on the phone. Come out and talk to me. You know you can.”

Justin leaned his head against the door. “I don’t know if I can.”

“That’s bullshit,” Daphne replied. “Whatever it is, you know I’ll love you and support you.”

“You hear that?” Tatum said encouragingly and slapped Justin’s ass. “Go on, open the door and tell her.”

Justin took a deep breath but it really didn’t do anything to steady his nerves, his hand shook as he unlocked the door and then turned the handle. “Daphne,” he spoke in a gravely tone, “I couldn’t figure out a way to tell you so…” He took a step back, let out his breath and opened the door.

Daphne stepped backward against the hallway’s wall, her expression changed from worry, to confusion to happiness in a matter of seconds. “Oh my god!” she squealed and grabbed Justin’s wrist, leading him into the living area. “Tatum convinced you to go in drag tonight! Come on out here so I can look at you!”

Justin stumbled a little in his wedge heels but managed to not fall on his face as he followed Daphne into the center of the room. She dropped his hand and then did a slow circle around him, causing goosebumps to break out all over his exposed skin, which there was a lot of.

“You look great!” Daphne declared and jumped into Tatum’s arms. “You’re the best! I wish you would’ve been around to help out last year when we went to this costume party.” She grabbed Justin’s hands and jumped up and down. “You look so hot!”

“Thank you,” Justin said softly.

“I can’t believe you were worried about what I’d think of you. You look amazing. I mean, seriously, that dress… Wait a minute!” Daphne’s dark brown eyes clouded over. “That’s the dress I saw Tatum holding up to you when I ran into you at the mall.”

The ruched black dress was thigh length and molded to every one of Justin’s curves. Given the fact that Tatum was taller and much broader in the chest, there was no way that he could claim that it was his. Justin could practically see the wheels turning in Daphne’s head as she tried to figure out what was going on.

“You bought that?” Daphne asked.

Justin nodded and laughed nervously, “It was on sale.”

Daphne looked at Tatum for a moment and then back at Justin. “You were going to buy that before we even discussed going to see Tatum’s show tonight.”

“Yes,” Justin croaked. “I’m sorry I lied and I shouldn’t have put Tatum in the position to lie to you either.”

“So, you’re not a Drag Queen?” Daphne asked despondently to Tatum.

“I am,” Tatum said. “I’m really sorry, Daphne. I hated lying to you but Justin needed time.”

“Time to what?” Daphne asked, pinning Justin with a death glare. “Have you been going to costume parties without me all those days you told me you were studying?”

“No,” Justin said passionately and grabbed Daphne’s hands. “I was studying but not for school.”

Daphne backed away and sat down on the sofa. She had tears in her eyes as she asked, “What then? You’re confusing me and you’re saying you’ve lied to me. You’ve never lied to me before.”

It was true. Justin had always been truthful, with the exception of a few white lies to not, he’d always been honest with her and bared his soul to her.

“I’m gonna let you two talk,” Tatum said and gave Justin’s hand a gentle squeeze before he went into his bedroom.

Justin’s legs wobbled as he walked over to the couch, but not because his heels were uncomfortable, he’d gotten used to them rather quickly. His whole body was shaking, thrumming and he felt himself sweating so profusely that he was certain he’d have to put a whole new face on before they left for the bar.

“Talk to me,” Daphne said, her tone soft. “Please, Justin.”

“Jewel,” Justin corrected, his voice sounding like he was trying for a falsetto but really it was because he was barely stopping himself from crying. “A couple of months ago, right after I lost my job at the bookstore, Tatum told me about a drag competition they were holding at Riddle. It was the Riddle Princess competition and whoever won, would win two grand and have the option to take a job doing shows with the other Premier Queens. I competed and I won.”

A little smile quirked Daphne’s lips but was quickly replaced by a frown. “So, for months, you’ve been performing in drag and you haven’t told me?”

“No, I didn’t take the job,” Justin explained. “The owner said he’d give me time to decide because I wasn’t sure I would be able to do it. I’m still not entirely sure but tonight, I have to give him an answer or he’s going to give the job to someone else.”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t tell me. If you were going to become a go-go boy or a stripper I wouldn’t have cared, we even joked about it once. So why would you think I’d care if you donned some girl clothes to make some money?”

Justin bit his lip and tasted the strawberry lemonade gloss he’d applied and forced himself to stop stalling. “Because I’m not doing it for the money. It’s a bonus, yeah, but that’s not why I’m going to take the job. It’s not why I’m sitting here wearing this for you.”

“Then… are you saying you’re transgendered?” Daphne asked.

“No,” Justin quickly spoke, “I’m not transgendered. I don’t want to be a woman. I’m still a man and that’s who I want to be.”

“I don’t understand,” Daphne said lowly and seeing the crestfallen look on Justin’s face she added, “but I want to. Try to explain it to me.”

Justin felt the butterflies fluttering around inside of him come to a complete stop. He smiled. “I like the way I feel, being Jewel. It’s a different kind of freedom and it allows me to be an artist in a way I’ve been yearning to explore since the night of that Halloween party. Tatum helped me with some of the makeup but mostly it’s me. It was hard for me to accept and I’m still not entirely there, I know it’s weird and strange to some people because it still is to me. But I can’t help it and even if I could, I wouldn’t want to. I really like being Jewel. I’m still Justin and I won’t be dressing like this unless I’m doing a show or going to hang out with the other Queens. This is an opportunity for me to not only make money but to have another source for me to express my art.” He took Daphne’s hands in his own. “I’m really sorry I lied to you. I can’t take that back but I hope you’ll go a little easy on me because I really need my best friend right now.”

Daphne brought Justin toward her and squeezed him into a fierce hug. “You’ve got me.” She pulled back and told him. “Whether you’re Jewel or Justin, you’re _my_ best friend and nothing’s going to change that. As long you don’t lie to me anymore.”

“I won’t,” Justin said, tears shining in his eyes. He sighed with relief. “Thank you.”

Daphne gave him a dazzling smile. “This is going to be so much fun. I mean, have you even thought about how great it is going to be to go shopping together?”

Justin laughed. “Yeah, actually I have.”

“I have like a million questions I want to ask you,” Daphne told him and picked up one of his hands. “But that can wait.” She brought Justin’s hand to her face and shook her head. “You have got to do something with your nails. You helped me learn how to paint all these cool designs on mine.” She waved her pink nails which had intricate silver swirls all over them.

Justin nodded and pulled a box off the coffee table and opened it. He showed Daphne the contents, a dozen bottles of nail polish and nail pens in an array of colors. “I was hoping that if this went well, you might return the favor.”

Daphne giggled with excitement as she chose a golden bottle and a black nail pen. “Sure, as long as you answer all my questions,” she bargained.

“I’ll answer as many as I can,” Justin conceded. “But we’ve got to hurry. I’ve got to get to the bar early tonight so I can scope out the stage.”

“You’re actually going to do a show tonight?”

“If the owner lets me,” Justin said.

“Is he gay?”

“I have no idea if Logan is gay or not. Why?”

“If he isn’t, he’d take one look at you and melt.”

“Thanks, but I’m not looking to catch a straight man. I’m a gay man, Daphne. That hasn’t changed.”

“Right, sorry. It’s just…”

“Weird?” Justin supplied, placing a pillow on his lap and then covering it with a tissue. He put his hand on top of it and wiggled his fingers. “It’s all right. It is weird. I know it is and I’m not an idiot, I know I could easily pass for a woman if I weren’t so dragged up and wore just a little makeup and regular women’s clothing. I want to be with someone whose going to want me, Justin and accept Jewel too.”

“But he won’t be fucking Jewel, right?” Daphne asked.

“If I ever end up getting that far with a man, no,” Justin affirmed. “It doesn’t matter though. I’ve got too much other things going on in my head to be worried about my heart or my sex life.”

♦♦♦♦♦

“Thanks,” Brian told Kiki as she placed his cup of coffee and omelet down in front of him.

“I’ll come back with your sugars, Sugar,” she told him.

“No need,” Brian said, “I take it black now.” He had only been able to stomach his first cup of coffee yesterday and sugar was on the bad list his dietician had given him. He glanced at his watch and saw it was getting close to eight thirty. Soon, his friends would start filtering into the diner. Since undergoing treatment for testicular cancer he rarely stopped by the diner for a meal. Not only could his stomach not handle the greasy food but he was too emotionally drained to handle his friends. Today he’d decided to give in to the nagging Michael had done last night on the phone. He hadn’t told him that he’d for sure meet him for breakfast, but he’d had his first restful night in weeks, felt well enough when he woke up and figured he could make an appearance that would hopefully keep everyone off his back for a while.

When he first found out that he had cancer and intended to fight it, he began to have a lot of odd nightmares. The visions began as memories of his day-to-day life but morphed into dramatic, frightening events. Often he saw himself shaving and then he’d wash his face, look into the mirror and see himself old and diseased, his eyes the only recognizable feature. Another reoccurring one showed him playing trains with Gus, laughing as Lindsay told him a joke and Melanie poke fun at him, dissolving into another scene with Lindsay pacing back and forth in front of them, repeatedly asking Gus, ‘Where’s your father?’ Then there was the nightmare where he was carefree, dancing with Michael at Babylon and suddenly it would be Vic he was dancing with, asking him if he wanted to end up like him and before Brian could reply, he’d be dancing completely alone on the catwalk while scores of hot men pointed up at him laughing.

Brian wasn’t an idiot. He knew that he was having these dreams because the cancer had wormed its way inside of his head, the fear of dying demanding that he take stock of his life, what he valued and what he wanted in his future. He engaged in a lot of deep reflection in the hours he spent curled up beside his toilet waiting for his gut wrenching dry heaves to end. Alone in the silence of the loft without drugs, booze and sex to blur his memory and numb his feelings, he realized that love was an erratic, conditional concept to most of those who claimed to know what it was and he didn’t think he’d ever figure out the true meaning if he kept those sorts of people surrounding him while he tried to figure it out. Logically, he knew that the first step in being a good father to Gus was to love him and not at a distance, to embrace it and give it without feeling like he wanted to hide from it. It was a harder challenge than fighting the cancer itself but he was slowly making progress.

“Should you be eating that?” Michael asked, pointing down at the egg white omelet on Brian’s plate.

Brian glared up at Michael in annoyance and asked, “Just what do you think I should be eating?”

“Well,” Michael took a seat in the booth across from Brian, “I did some research.”

Brian snorted. “I’m not really interested in hearing how Marvel created any of its superheroes, Mikey.” Michael rarely cracked a book in school, the only reason he made it through his classes with a passing C or D grade was because he copied Brian’s homework and had Brian help him write his research papers.

“On cancer,” Michael said. “You’re supposed to follow a specific diet, you know.”

“It took you six weeks to figure that out?” Every day that passed since Brian let Michael in on his ‘secret’, which of course didn’t remain one for long no matter what Michael promised him, Brian regretted telling his best friend about his testicular cancer. “I don’t need you to tell me what to eat. I see a dietician from the oncology department.”

Michael sighed. “You don’t have to sound so ungrateful.”

“The fact that I have an appetite after spending most of the week with my head in the toilet is a miracle. Whatever I feel like eating is better than nothing and this is a perfectly acceptable breakfast.”

“You should at least eat some grapefruit with that,” Michael persisited. “Your body needs…”

“He needs this,” Debbie interrupted, appearing beside the booth. She placed a plate containing pancakes, bacon and toast in front of Brian. “You didn’t think I’d let you get away with only ordering that omelet did you? I reamed Kiki a new one for that but you should’ve known better than to weddle her into taking your order cause you knew that I wouldn’t allow you to eat that crap. You’re too skinny and getting thinner every day.”

“And here I thought I was finally on the mend,” Brian drawled.

“Your body might’ve handled the cancer a lot better if you would’ve taken care of yourself before this happened,” Debbie chided. She poised her pen on her order pad and asked Michael, “What’ll it be?”

“The breakfast platter, scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon and sausage, please,” Michael answered. “And a glass of orange juice.”

Debbie grinned proudly and ruffled Michael’s hair. “Now that’s a man who takes care of his body eats,” she said pointedly before walking away.

“Or a man who wants to have a heart attack,” Brian said, once she was out of ear shot.

Michael flipped Brian off. “I burned a lot of calories last night.”

“Just how many times did you come?” Brian teased and continued to eat his omelet, ignoring the breakfast Debbie placed before him.

Michael’s expression grew serious. “You really don’t feel like eating anything more than that?”

“I barely feel like eating this,” Brian admitted.

“You’ve been working too hard,” Michael said. “If you’d take it easy, you might not be so sick all the time.”

“I take it easy too much.” Brian sipped his coffee. “I’ve just started a business, Mikey. I can’t let it fail.”

“But you’ve got Cynthia and Ted to help you, surely all those other people who work for you can pick up the slack.”

“They can, they have,” Brian swallowed thickly, feeling nauseas. “When Ben was sick, how many days did you leave the comic book shop to run itself?”

“That’s different,” Michael said, “I had new shipments coming in. None of the teenagers who work for me could do the inventory for them.”

“You’re right, it is different but only because while you were working you weren’t worried about puking on your employees or passing out in front of a client,” Brian said. “Ben was in the hospital for four days and yet you still had obligations that only you could take care of at Red Cape. I’ve had weeks and weeks of this shit, Mikey. I have to be at Kinnetik, whether or not I feel like it.” Brian wiped his mouth on a napkin and then pulled a twenty out of his wallet. “I’ve got to go.”

“But I haven’t even gotten my breakfast and you haven’t even tried to eat yours,” Michael said desperately.

“I’m finished.” Brian stood and leaned over to peck Michael’s lips. “I’ll see you around.”

Michael grabbed his wrist to stop him. “You’re scaring me, Brian. I’ve barely seen you for weeks and…”

“I’m fine,” Brian interrupted, pulling away.

“You say ‘fine’ but I know you don’t mean it. You need someone to take care of you every day. You can lock your door, turn off your phone and avoid regular diner hours all you want but I’m your best friend. You’re my responsibility right now and if you cared about me and Ma, you’d listen to us. We’re only trying to help you feel better so you can go back to being the Brian Kinney we know and love.”

Brian had learned it would be pointless for him to reply to Michael right now. His best friend would only hear what he wanted. Maybe one day he would understand, but for now it was best for Brian to go back to keeping his distance from him and his old haunts.

♦♦♦♦♦

**2005**

Justin went pale as he saw his mother rifling through an open box of Jewel’s clothing. She’d come over to help with the move to the apartment he would be sharing with Daphne and Tatum and he’d thought he’d hidden all the things he didn’t want her to see in boxes labeled with Tatum’s name.

“I think you labeled this box wrong,” Jennifer said, placing the sparkly silver bra back into the brown box. She picked it up, stood and began carrying it toward Daphne’s room.

Justin knew that if he wanted to tell his mother the truth, now would be the perfect time. All he would have to say was, ‘No, that box is labeled correctly.’ She would probably draw her own conclusions then. He knew she’d seen that the contents were all women’s clothing. He couldn’t do it though. Each night he performed in drag and each day that he infused Jewel with parts of Justin, he felt more comfortable with his desires. Still, he couldn’t imagine telling his mother.

Jennifer knew that Tatum was a Drag Queen by night and an artist by day. Though she was accepting and supporting of his sexuality and even a PFLAG mother, she was also naïve to the ‘gay world’. She said things like, ‘I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for Tatum’s parents to know he dresses like a woman to make money’. Or, ‘Even when he’s dressed as a man, I worry if I should refer to him as a he or a she.’ He had tried to explain that Tatum wasn’t transgendered, tried to subtlety tell her his own feelings and reasons as if they were Tatum’s but she never seemed to understand.

While growing up, there were few secrets that Justin kept from his mother due to their close bond. He’d taken on the roll of ‘man of the house’ at nine years old. Easter morning of that year, Craig Taylor woke with excruciating stomach pains and had to go to the emergency room. He had appendicitis, was rushed into surgery and during the routine operation where he was heavily anesthetized, he suffered a heart attack. Though the doctors had been unable to restart his heart’s rhythm and Craig never regained consciousness. Due to Justin’s failings with sports, he didn’t ever share closeness with his father that he knew most sons had, but his death still greatly affected him. The loss was made worse when his mother told him that she was pregnant, at the time of his father’s death it had been too early for her to be sure and he never knew. He’d begged to be a big brother for years but that news worried him and it was then that he began to take on the responsibility of caring for his mother and soon after, his little sister, Molly.

Justin grew up fast, faster than Jennifer would’ve liked, as she often told him but she couldn’t stop it. Justin was precocious, sensitive and driven. He barely blinked an eye when his mother told him he’d have to transfer to public schools, unable to afford to keep both the house and pay the high tuition fees for a private education. Even though he was only nine years old, he understood that sacrifices had to be made. His father only had a small life insurance policy and they needed to save that for he and Molly’s college education. His mother relied on him to take care of their home and watch Molly while she worked and went to night school to get her realtors license. With each year that passed, she saw Justin as more than just her son, but as a friend and it was no surprise to either of them when Justin first admitted to liking boys. Telling her that he was a Drag Queen, that would be a surprise and Justin doubted things would go as well with her as they had with Daphne.

“You can just set the box outside her door,” Justin told Jennifer. The time would come when he’d have to confess to his true profession but that wasn’t going to be today.

Jennifer placed the box in the hallway by Daphne’s door and walked back to him. She raised her hand and brushed a sweaty strand of hair off his forehead. “Your hair is getting really long. Maybe you should get it cut for the summer.”

Justin had already gotten it cut. He used clip extensions to make his hair fuller for Jewel but kept it long and shaggy so that he could hide them. “I like my hair.”

“Can we take a break before Daphne and Tatum gets back with the next haul? I need to talk to you about something.”

“Sure,” he nervously replied. “I’ll get us a couple bottles of water.” He went into the kitchen and silently berated himself, ‘If you wouldn’t lie to her, you wouldn’t freak out every time she wants to talk to you! Be proud of who you are. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You know that!’ “But it still feels like I should be,” Justin whispered to himself as he pulled two waters out of the nearly empty fridge.

“Thanks,” Jennifer said, taking the offered bottle from Justin as he sat beside her.

“Is this something bad?” Justin asked.

“It depends on how you look at it,” Jennifer said.

Justin sighed. “Tell me and we’ll see how I look at it.”

“I’ve had an offer on our house,” Jennifer spoke in a sad tone.

“An offer? You mean, to buy it?” Justin asked.

“Yes.”

“But… when did you even put it on the market?”

“I didn’t,” Jennifer said. “I had a clients over yesterday to go over some listings and they said they wanted to buy it.”

“Our house,” Justin said slowly. “And you’re going to sell it?” There were so many memories attached to that house. Even though he hadn’t lived at home in four years and was now sharing an apartment with his friends, he sort of figured that it would always still be his home.

“I’d like to,” Jennifer admitted. “Tucker has been asking me and Molly to move in with him for the last three months but I’ve resisted because I didn’t want to leave our home but the last couple of years it really hasn’t felt like home.”

“Since I moved out?” Justin asked. “But you still have Molly.”

“True. But she’s growing up and she’ll be in college in a few years from now. She has so many activities going on right now that she’s barely home and we end up spending most of our time at Tucker’s house anyway. It wouldn’t just be me moving in with Tucker. He’s asked me to marry him and I’d like to, but that means that I have to let go of the past.”

“What does Molly think?” Justin implored.

“Molly doesn’t know about the offer but she knows that Tucker wants us to move in there with him. She’s actually asked me before if we could, granted her best friend lives a block away from Tucker’s house, but I’m positive she’d have no problem with making the move. She’s not attached to the home for the same reasons we are. She doesn’t know what she’s missing with your father so she doesn’t have the same reasons to want to hold on to the place as we do. Only now, I’m not sure I have those reasons anymore.”

“But you finally paid off the mortgage on house last year,” Justin said worriedly. “Now you’re going to move in with Tucker and have another one to worry about?”

“Tucker’s house was left to him by a relative so there’s no mortgage to pay and our house has appreciated in value triple from what we paid for it. The couple who offered to buy it want to pay that and I can’t help but think of all the good things I could do with that money for you and for Molly.”

“I don’t want your money,” Justin said. “My internship with Freeman Designs will become a part-time paid position after I finish this semester and graduate and I’ll still be bartending. Whatever it is you do, I don’t want you to think you have to support me financially, Mom.”

“You don’t understand,” Jennifer said and smiled brightly. “Molly’s trust will more than cover her first four years of college. If I sell the house, I’ll be able to afford a new car for you, for me and set some aside for Molly’s first car. Not only that, but there will be more than enough for me to pay for you to get your Masters, and Molly will have the same opportunity when she’s your age.”

“You’re serious?” Justin asked. Here he was, a semester away from graduating with a Bachelor in Fine Arts and he still had yet to decide what he really wanted to do with it. Positioning himself to take the job offer at Freeman Designs was something he’d settled on because he wasn’t prepared to choose a life-time career. He knew that it would take about three and a half years for him to receive his Masters Degree and by then he was certain that he’d know exactly what career he wanted to pursue.

“Completely,” Jennifer affirmed. “There will still be money left over too so that I can set aside a nice nest egg for me.”

“So, the only thing holding you back from selling is me? You won’t sell if I don’t want you to?”

“I wouldn’t,” Jennifer said. “I’d ask Tucker to sell his home and move in with Molly and me if that’s what you wanted. I owe you that much.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Mom!” Justin protested. “You’ve given me and Molly so much.”

“But you’ve given us more than you probably ever should’ve had to. When we first met Tucker at Molly’s recetal, do you remember who he thought you were?”

Justin laughed. “Your brother.”

“He did and I thought he was only being kind to me, trying to tell me I looked much younger than what I am.”

“You do,” Justin quickly put in.

“I may,” Jennifer said, “but a while after that, when we really got to know one another, I asked him about that. I was trying to tease him into telling me the truth, that it was just some line. It wasn’t.”

Justin raised his eyebrows. “Really?” He liked Tucker but the man was only eight years older than himself and it had taken him a while to accept him.

“He told me that he’d seen you at the school many times. He knew you were young, too young to be Molly’s father, but he said he thought you acted very mature. He’d seen other big brother’s pick up their siblings from school or come to their plays and other school functions but he never saw them act the way you do with Molly. You act like a father to Molly, you always have. You’re the one who built her that tree house in the backyard, you taught her how to swim in our pool and you help her rehearse her lines for whatever play she’s in and help her with homework that I couldn’t even begin to understand. You made those memories with her in that house, you still make those memories with her and even though I hope I always told you how much I appreciated having a son like you, how lucky Molly is to have you as a brother, I think I may have taken advantage of you.”

Justin saw tears pooling in his mother’s eyes and rushed to assure her, “You never took advantage of me, Mom. Don’t ever think that.” He hugged her close. “You know that I did all those things because I wanted to, even if I complained about babysitting sometimes, I did all those things for the three of us.”

“But you didn’t get to have the childhood I wanted for you,” Jennifer said, wiping her tears.

Justin shrugged. “I loved my childhood. It sucked when Dad died, it really did, but you were the best mom in the world. Besides, that past is a part of who I am and though I might be confused about a lot of stuff in my life, I know that I like who I am. I wouldn’t be who I am now if things were different. You like the man I am, don’t you?”

Jennifer pat Justin’s cheeks affectionately and smiled. “You’re the most amazing young man a mother could ever have for a son.”

“Then that’s settled,” Justin said. “No regrets, okay?”

Jennifer nodded.

“As for the house and the memories, I’ll still have them and if selling can help us all have a better future than I think you should do it.”

“You’re sure?” Jennifer asked, hesitantly.

“Positive,” Justin assured. “And if I ever get lonesome for the house, I’m sure you have about a million picture albums we can look at.”

“Just not in front of your friends, right?” Jennifer asked, her tone brighter.

“Right.”

Jennifer laughed. “I still think you should let me show Tatum that picture I took of you when you and Molly dressed up in my clothes. You looked so cute wearing my wedding dress, heels and make up. I think Tatum would get a kick out of it..”

Justin swallowed thickly. “Yeah, he’d probably get a kick out of it, but no, you can’t show him. I was a skinny, awkward thirteen year old, well beyond my cute years.” He also knew that it would only be ammunition for Tatum’s running mantra of ‘tell your Mom you’re a Drag Queen’.

Jennifer patted Justin’s knee and whispered, “Between you and I, I think you made a better looking woman back then, than he does now.”

Justin forced himself to laugh but hearing the story again made him wonder how his mom couldn’t know that there was something very odd about a thirteen year old boy wearing a dress. The fact that he’d been playing dress up with Molly was inconsequential; she’d been so little at the time that though he didn’t remember the day, he was certain she hadn’t been the one to initiate it. He wondered if it had been his mother’s idea and that thought made his decision to hold off telling her, if ever, because though Daphne may have been fine with Jewel, his mother would think it was something she’d caused. Their recent conversation was evidence of it and likely Jen would see it as a consequence to his upbringing and lack of a father.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jennifer said. “I was only joking.”

Justin wasn’t sure what his expression had been so he quickly gave her a mask of happiness. “I know it was a joke.” But it was also real. Tatum was good looking and Tatum Isis Avery made a beautiful Queen, but Jewel Avery passed as a woman without much effort at all.

“Speaking of wedding dresses,” Jennifer began, “I’ll need to pick one out soon. Tucker and I have talked about getting married and what we want for our wedding. It’s going to be small and simple. I’ll have my sisters and Molly as bridesmaids and Tucker said he’d like it if you were one of his groomsmen.”

“I didn’t realize you guys were already planning this,” Justin said.

“It’s been a discussion we’ve had more often recently. Tucker really wants to be married before his Great Grandmother passes away and the woman is ninety-two, so we don’t have much time to spare.”

“So when do you think it’ll be?” Justin asked.

“Once the house is sold and in escrow I’d like to move to Tucker’s and be married shortly after. I’d say a month or so?”

“Like around Valentine’s Day?”

“That would be romantic. Tucker has a friend who is a pastor so we can probably just hold it in his home.”

“Then you should get going home and start planning it,” Justin said, standing.

Jennifer smiled widely. “You’re right. I should. Tucker’s been waiting on an answer about this but I did agree to help with the moving.”

“It’s all right,” Justin assured and once Jennifer stood he led her to the door. “I’ll probably have the rest of the kitchen stuff unpacked before Daphne and Tatum get back. Thanks for all your help, Mom.” He hugged her and kissed her cheek.

“I know you’re going to be busy settling in and starting school next week but maybe you can come with me and Molly to shop for dresses next week? You’re always so good at knowing what I’ll look best in.”

Justin nodded, “Sure.”

“But remember that I’m the bride,” Jennifer said, “there’ll be no dressing up in your mother’s wedding gown this time. It would be funny to shock the sales associates though, wouldn’t it?”

“Uh-huh,” Justin barely managed to breathe out, leaning heavily against the open door.

“I think I’ll ask Daphne if she wants to come along too. I’ll need as many opinions on the dress as I can get,” Jennifer continued in a dreamy tone. “Just us girls… and you. Of course, you could invite Tatum to come with us. From what I saw of his clothing he seems to be up to date on women’s fashions”

“I’ll ask him,” Justin said. He could use as much support as possible.

“But do you think he’d be able to control himself with all the tempting dresses?” she joked.

“Yeah, Mom, he should be able to handle it.” It was official, his mother thought him looking like a woman at thirteen was funny and cute but the idea of him, her almost twenty-two year old son, wearing a dress would embarrass her.

“All right,” Jennifer kissed Justin’s cheek. “I’ll set up an appointment in the late afternoon for next week, will that work with your school schedule?”

“It should,” Justin said. “Most of my classes are early ones.”

“Okay, see you then,” Jennifer told him, waved and walked toward the elevator.

Justin waited for his mother to get on the elevator before he closed the apartment door. As soon as it was shut, he leaned against it and slid to the floor, tears staining his cheeks.

♦♦♦♦♦

Brian was near certain he was hallucinating. Yes, that had to be it. Hallucinations caused by trauma, stress and sleepless nights. No way could Lindsay and Melanie actually have said that they wanted to move, taking Gus and Jenny Rebecca with them to Toronto, Canada. It was too hasty, cowardly and cruel. Sure the lesbians hadn’t always made the best decisions in their lives but this was just unfathomable stupidity.

“We would like to go with your blessing,” Lindsay said.

Brian blinked a few times as he stared up at his friend and then looked at Melanie who for once wasn’t glaring at him. Melanie had fear in her eyes and a defeated expression on her face, something Brian was completely unaccustomed to seeing. This was actually happening; it wasn’t some sick nightmare his subconscious was producing. “You want my blessing to take my son to…”

“And Jenny,” Melanie iterated.

Brian sucked in a deep breath while he rose from his chair. “You want to take my son and Michael’s child to Canada. But you won’t go without my blessing?”

Lindsay looked at Melanie and after her wife nodded at her she told Brian, “No, we won’t go without your blessing but we need you to think of _them_ , Brian. They deserve to grow up somewhere safe, somewhere that the general population isn’t going judge and hate them, _hurt_ them because they happen to have homosexual parents.”

“And you believe that Toronto will be safe?” Brian asked.

“We do,” Melanie answered.

Brian drew his lips into his mouth and pondered how on earth two women who were brave political and social activists could become such cowards and want to abandon the fight they’d been so involved in. “I don’t think you two understand what you’re asking.”

“We do,” Lindsay spoke passionately. “We both acknowledge how different you’ve been the last year, Brian. You’ve become the father to Gus I always knew you could be if you allowed yourself the freedom. Now, I’m asking you to give us the same freedom so that we can be the mothers Gus and Jenny Rebecca needs us to be.”

“Gay bashings and bombings aren't the reasons for your marital problems,” Brian said pointedly, ignoring the flare of anger he saw wash over Melanie’s features. “I already gave you both enough freedom to be the mothers you needed to be to Gus when I signed over my parental rights. If you want to go to Canada and live out this supposed dream life you’ve imagined the land will provide, you have my blessing.”

Lindsay and Melanie let out a joint relieved sigh.

“But you’re not going to teach my son to run away from a bully, Gus stays here. As for Jenny Rebecca, I don’t have rights to her but I’m sure Ben, as Michael’s P.O.A. will agree with me when I say you aren't taking her anywhere while her father is lying comatose in a fucking hospital!”

TBC in Chapter 1


	2. Chapter 1: "Forming"

**Jewel  
Chapter One: “Forming”**

_“Love, like everything else in life, should be a discovery, an adventure, and like most adventures, you don’t know you’re having one until you’re right in the middle of it.”_ ~E.A. Bucchianeri

**August, 2008**

“Fuck!” The Jeep bounces around as I hit an unexpected pot hole and see that the latte I just bought is victim to the motions, bubbling liquid out of the mouth and all over the lid. I slow the vehicle to a crawl and hope that the new tires I just put on it aren’t busted already. A plume of gravel smoke dusts the air around me as I pull into a parking space between an old maroon Corolla and an even older black convertible Mustang. It’s a good thing I changed out of my suit before leaving the office or my new Armani would be covered in gray dust. Sure, I could’ve put the top on the Jeep, but it’s August and the winter weather will force me to put it up soon enough.

Ted had told me that the Royal Reclamations Studio was deceiving from the outside and it better be true because the old service station turned ‘art house’ looks like it’s about to fall down. The large garage door’s windows are painted black, so I can’t see inside; I guess that stops any would-be robbers from casing the place. Honestly though, I doubt anyone would think they’d find anything of value in there. The sign above the office door is the only indication that this is something other than an abandoned building, that and the loud noises coming from within.

I slip out of the Jeep, pocket my keys and walk up to the beat up metal door. I’m not a germaphobe, but as the black grease on the silver handle threatens the well being of my suit, I can’t help but to cringe a bit as I turn it and push the door open. Immediately the noise I heard from outside becomes ear-piercing and I doubt the bell sitting on the office countertop will be heard over it. “Hello!” I call out, looking around the tiny space. Surprisingly the office is clean and neat. A small desk sits on the other side of the counter and a couple metal sculptures and light fixtures decorate the room, along with an amazing abstract painting that takes up the entire back wall beside another metal door, this one in better shape than the entrance. The painting is intriguing, I wouldn’t mind owning it but its missing depth and leaves me feeling unsettled. I look at the signature and see a scrawled J for the first name and a T for the last. Though the name is basically illegible I know it’s not painted by the owner of the shop and I can’t help myself being curious about the creator.

After a minute, when no one answers, I call out and give in to trying to get a response by ringing the little metal bell. As I thought, you can’t even hear it.

I look at my watch and see that it’s five thirty, right on time for the meeting with the artists who are working on the pieces commissioned for Babylon’s reopening. The designer, Sam accompanied by Ted, has been down here multiple times to check on the progress of the art pieces. I’ve met the owner, Tatum Avery, a handful of times at Babylon and Kinnetik to discuss the design of each piece commissioned. He’s always been prompt so I’m a confused as to why he’s obviously forgotten this meeting with me. I don’t have time to wait. I promised Gus that I’d read him his bedtime story tonight and that’s in an hour from now. I open the door next to the painting and find a long rectangular work room that probably used to house tires from the looks of the massive shelving on each side behind it.

There’s a few people milling about, working on various pieces that I recognize from the plans but none of them Tatum. I wave at the only person who seems to give a shit that a stranger just walked in, a tall red-haired woman using a table saw. 

She shuts down the saw and thankfully the noise ends. “Hi. Can I help you?”

“I have a meeting with Tatum to see the final pieces for Babylon,” I tell her, walking toward her.

“Oh,” she frowns. “Um… he isn’t available today.” She waves behind her and points with her thumb. “Jussy’s in the studio with _the big ball_ and can probably help you out. Just go through the door back there.”

“Thanks,” I say, though I’m feeling anything but thankful as I walk toward the glass door. I didn’t think Tatum was like most artists I’ve known, temperamental and pretentious, but obviously I was wrong. Not keeping an appointment, or bothering to reschedule with a client who has commissioned thousands of dollars worth of artwork and wants to see the final projects and pay you for them, is extremely rude and unprofessional. Hopefully this Jussy woman will at least know enough to show me what I’m here to see.

The thick paned glass door opens to a dark studio, and with the light coming from behind me I can’t see much. The door shuts behind me and leaves the room pitch black.

“Lisa, stay where you are,” a male voice calls out. “or you’ll trip over the wiring. Give me just a second, I’m about to light the globe.”

I want to tell whoever it is that I’m not Lisa but I’m rendered speechless when a bright light from above comes on and the whole room sparkles with it. The whole room is lit up, glittering, and the source of the brightness hangs in between two raised car lifts. This globe in front of me is better than the design Tatum showed me a couple of weeks ago. It’s an addition that one of his artists came up with at the last minute and I couldn’t really envision the reality from the sketch. Whoever the artist is, they’re fucking brilliant. The ball is actually a rounded cage made from broken handrails, salvaged before the start of Babylon’s rebuild, welded together into a three dimensional globe. Holes have been drilled in the pipes and colored light shines from within, but the best part, which is a complete surprise to me, is the large disco ball spinning inside of it. 

The F.B.I. investigation into the bombing caused a delay in my plans to immediately rebuild. As soon as they took over from the Pittsburgh P.D., they shut down the building for almost four months. Six weeks into their investigation, they caught the person who planted the bomb, thirty-three year old, Steven Pettigrew. He’s a Christian Fundamentalist, cast out of the Woodsboro Baptist Church occult after rumors started within the sect that he was gay. The rumors had been true. Steven had chosen to go to a ‘see the light’ type of camp at the age of twenty-four after living in Pittsburgh his whole life and contracting H.I.V. from his unfaithful lover. His retaliation, the bombing, had been toward both the fundamentalist group and the gay community whom he blamed as a whole for his positive status. I still don’t know how they’d tracked the bomb to Pettigrew, I’ve heard dozens of theories but as part of the no contest plea agreement where Steven waved his right to a trial, the details of the investigation were sealed. Pettigrew was sentenced to three consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole and ordered to pay damages to the victims.

After the F.B.I. gave the property back, I was knee deep in dealing with the munchers’ bullshit and helping Michael, who had just woke up for his coma, rehabilitate himself. A year passed before the insurance company paid out, due to ‘investigative issues’ the company had with the sealed F.B.I. file. They questioned whether or not the burden of payment should be with Pettigrew’s insurance or Babylon’s. The extent of the damages went beyond anything I had been prepared to take on without it and I had no choice but to allow the club to sit empty, until the matter was settled. Most of the rubble rested undisturbed inside of the club until last year when I finally had enough time to begin thinking about the plans for rebuilding.

The outside walls were structurally sound, so with the exception of a new coat of blue-black paint, they could stay the same. Inside nearly everything had to change. It was important for me that Babylon would retain only the best parts of the past. This was my chance to design my playground the way I wanted but the bombing shadowed each decision I made. I told Sam that I wanted to go into a different direction for the art pieces but that very night, Ted and I took a trip to Babylon to meet with the architect and though I’d been inside many times since the bombing, I’d never noticed the piece I found that night. The largest disco ball that had hung directly over the dance floor was in perfect condition.

I told Ted about Sam’s idea for the art and believe it or not, he gave me some damn good advice that ended up with me giving Sam the disco ball and telling him to bring a crew in to salvage whatever he could and find an artist that could turn the ugly destruction into beautiful, tasteful art. The last I talked to Tatum about the disco ball, we were planning to use it the same way it was before, adding various sizes of other balls to it and hang it over the dance floor. This surprising use for it is fucking genius.

“It’s fucking beautiful,” I hear the male voice say.

I look toward the direction it came from and see a blond man climbing down a ladder, his back toward me. He’s shadowed a little due to the light being in front of him but I don’t have to look hard to notice his perfect ass. I get a weird feeling of déjà vu as he walks backward into the center of the studio and looks directly up to the light. I can see him a little better now and even though his clothes are baggy and dirty, he’s definitely hot.

“Are you Jussy?” I call out, walking toward him.

“Fuck.” He jumps and spins around to face me. “You’re not Lisa.”

I refrain from grabbing my dick and say, “Definitely not,” as I approach him. He smiles slightly as I come to stand a foot in front him, my eyes taking in all of his features. He isn’t just ‘hot’, he’s fucking gorgeous and the lighting makes his blue eyes sparkle and his teeth gleam. I get a mental picture of glitter falling on his pale skin and then my mind morphs to an even better place, him in my bed, under me, face flushed the way it is now but not from shock or embarrassment but from passion.

“Who are you?” he asks, and narrows his eyes a little.

“That depends, are you ‘Jussy’? The girl with the saw told me to find you in here.”

His nose scrunches up. “That would be Lisa.” He shrugs. “She has a brother with my name and uses ‘Jussy’ to delineate between us.”

“So what’s your real name then?” I prompt.

He blushes again, offers his hand to me and smiles big and wide. “Justin Taylor.”

I grasp his hand in mine and feel the heat build between us as our skin touches. I’ve seen a lot of beautiful men, but Justin is one of the best. Normally I’m not attracted to twinks but he doesn’t exactly give the impression of one. His eyes aren’t as innocent, there’s something in them that gives credence to him being older than what he may first appear and I can’t find it in me to look away from him or drop his hand. “Brian Kinney,” I say after what I’m sure is too long.

He shifts on his toes and blinks slowly, his eyes traveling down my body and then up again until they meet my eyes again. “You’re the owner of Babylon.”

My cock reacts to his dropped, husky tone and I admittedly, stupidly reluctant drop my hand from his soft grip. “Yes.” I clear my throat and remind myself of the reason I’m here. “I’m supposed to see the final pieces, sign off on them so-to-say, but Lisa said Tatum isn’t available?” I raise my eyebrow.

“He had a family emergency,” Justin tells me and runs his hands through his shaggy locks. “His mother was taken to the hospital,” he frowns, “heart attack.”

“I’m sorry.” Still, someone could’ve called to let me know.

“He said he’d call you to reschedule but then I said I would do it for him. He had enough to worry about this afternoon but I got so caught up with completing the globe,” he gestures above us, “and I was so deep into creating that time slipped away from me. I can show you everything though. I’m Tatum’s partner.”

The word partner doesn’t always pertain to business in the gay world but this is business, no matter how much I’d like to fuck Justin and his perfect ass, mouth and… Right. _This is business_ and until the contract is finished, there won’t be any fucking going on between us and I can wait until then to find out what sort of partners he is with Tatum. I knew in the first moment he saw me that he was checking me out, I knew when we touched that he wanted me, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t attached. Then again, if having a partner was enough to stop men from fucking around, I probably wouldn’t have fucked a third of the men I have. “All right then, show me what you got,” I say, and can’t resist a sly grin.

“Well, you’ve seen ‘The Globe’, though everyone here has other silly names for it.” He sweeps both hands upward. “What do you think?”

“I like it.”

He chuckles and dares to push my shoulder. “Oh, please! You more than like it. You can’t hide the look on your face when you stare up at it. You love it.”

I shrug, why deny it? “It’s going to look perfect. Did you work on this yourself?”

“Mostly,” he admits, still grinning ear to ear. “This isn’t the type of art I usually do but I’ve known Tatum for a long time and I’ve learned a lot from him. When I first thought up the globe he told me to forget the other stuff I was working on and focus on this. I had to get help from Tommy, he’s a wiz with all the electronic stuff, but other than the wiring for the pulley system and lights, the rest of it is mine. Before this, I’d never even held a freaking blow torch or any of the other tools I used to put it together. It was a great learning experience for me, but I’m glad it’s over with because I just started my last year in the MFA program and I’ve got to concentrate on that. I still don’t have any idea what I’m going to do for my written thesis or what work I’m going to present at the final MFA art show.”

I’m not sure if I’ve somehow made him nervous and that’s causing him to talk a mile a minute and offer up information I could care less about, or if it’s because he actually believes I give a shit. “Right. So, if you’ll show me the other pieces, I’ll cut you a check, you can get paid and get back to your school work.”

“Oh, sorry,” he laughs as he turns away and walks over to a series of switches on the wall. “I haven’t had very much sleep as I’ve been trying to make the deadline, so I get a little bit crazed and start talking a lot.” He flips one of the switches and the room goes dark but a second later all the lights come on. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest and try to reel in my punch drunkenness.”

I follow him through the garage and besides a few words about the materials used in each piece and who made them, he seems to do a good job in tampering his giddiness. I approve each one; they’re all exactly how they were detailed to me during my last meeting with Tatum. When we get to the paintings I commissioned from the remains of the sponge and oak soundproofing walls, his whole demeanor changes. Standing in front of the six massive panels, his small body appears to fold in on itself. His shoulders slump, his breathing becomes heavy and I can see he has a vice grip on the hem of his t-shirt.

They’re beautiful, intensely painful and hopeful all at the same time. For anyone who is more comfortable than I am with showing emotion, they’d likely react the way Justin is. All of the panels are damaged in various areas but the artist has made them appear to be a part of the painting, instead of working around it, each hole, burn and scratch has meaning. They’re a little bit impressionistic and a little bit abstract in form, all of them naked bodies dancing, the first in red hues, the second in orange hues, the remaining panels finishing off each color of the rainbow. The artist used those colors but the paintings are dark, blacks, browns and grays making up most of bodies, the muscles, bones and facial features highlighted by each designated color. “Tatum told me what he had planned for these but I didn’t expect this,” I speak, breaking the silence.

Justin looks over at me and blinks his tear-filled eyes. Gruffly he says, “Tatum didn’t do these. I did.” He stares at me, waiting for me to tell him what I think.

He’s probably not going to like what I have to say. “I don’t think we can use these.”

His blue eyes widen and then narrow. “You don’t like them?”

“I didn’t say that.” I point to the purple one, the figure of a woman with her arms raised up, her eyes staring straight ahead, her expression filled with… Wait a minute. Shit, I can’t believe I didn’t see it at first. It isn’t pain or anger in any of their eyes. It’s pride. I mentally backtrack and tell him, “I don’t think we can use these where they were supposed to originally go. Around the dance floor’s walls they’ll be hidden away behind crowds of people. They should be seen.”

He relaxes his stance and wipes his eyes before giving me a curious look. “Where?”

I take my cell phone out of my pocket and flip it to the picture I took of the entryway. “Look,” I tell him and show him the picture. “We planned to have that metal piece that spells Babylon there, but I think these paintings will fit there much better.”

“But that’s the first thing people see when they go in,” he says in an anxious voice.

“Exactly.” I put my phone away. “We can put the sign on the opposite wall near the coat check.”

“But Tatum made that,” he says hesitantly. “That was his favorite piece.”

“And it’s my club,” I say. “Do you think Da Vinci got to choose where his work was displayed?” I don’t wait for him to answer. “The globe is genius, but these are fucking gallery worthy. What the fuck are you doing working here?”

“I don’t exactly work here.”

“So what have you been doing here?” I indicate the painting.

“Oh, I’ve just been helping out. This was a big project and I didn’t want to say no to the money. I’ve been experimenting.” He shrugs. “And when I heard what materials we’d be working with, I really wanted to be a part of it.”

“So you can point out your work to your friends when you go dancing?”

“No. It’s because of what this project represents. That’s what I wanted to show in those paintings. The bombing may have devastated us, stopped us from dancing for a little while, but we’ve still got our pride and they can’t take that away from us. It’s like those lyrics in that song, uhm… I can’t remember the name but the lyrics say, ‘You’ll be dancing once again and the pain will end, you’ll have no time for grieving.’ I can’t wait to dance there again.”

His voice is unexpectedly beautiful and he’s right about the lyric, hell, the whole damn song is perfect. “It’s ABBA, and the song is Chiquitita.”

He laughs and slaps my shoulder. “Guess someone from the older generation would know who sang that. The title though, it’s an odd one. You must be a big ABBA fan, am I right?”

I glance at my watch and ignore his teasing because it’s obvious I’m not old enough to have been a part of the original generation of ABBA fans. “I’ve got somewhere to be. If you want your check, I’d suggest showing me out now.”

“You have to leave so soon?” he says, hipchecking me as he passes me. “I was hoping I finally found someone who loves ABBA as much as I do.”

“Love them?” I snort, following his fabulous ass toward the door. “You didn’t know the name of the song a minute a go.”

He pauses and looks at me over his shoulder, a flirty grin on his face. “I was lying. It was a test to see if you were a fan or not.”

“Why should it matter?” I ask, though this conversation is pointless.

“Because I don’t dance with anyone that doesn’t love ABBA, it’s a rule of mine.”

“A rule?” We’ve now entered the workspace with the other artists who once again ignore me completely.

“Of course. Don’t you have rules?” He pushes open the door leading to the office but waits for me to pass him.

“Rules are meant to be broken,” I lean down and whisper in his ear before walking into the office.

His laughter is unexpected but I put it down to his odd personality. “Okay, so maybe some rules are meant to be broken. But I don’t break this one.” He walks behind the desk and produces a stack of papers. “These detail each piece and on the bottom is a line for you to sign saying you’ve received them. So, I don’t think you’ll have to write us a check today. We have to wait until you sign these and you can’t until all the pieces have been received and installed as part of the commission agreement. They’re still working on a couple of them too, but Lisa told me they’ll be ready by next week’s install date.”

I don’t know why I didn’t realize this before, it isn’t like me to start writing checks for work I haven’t even received and I’m pissed that Ted sent me here to do just that. Some fucking account manager! “Okay, you or Tatum, whoever is dealing with that will have to set that up with me and Sam.”

“All right. Thanks for stopping by Mr. Kinney.” 

He smiles at me so wide that it makes my breath catch and my cock begins aching for him. I really want to fuck him. “So,” I say, leaning on the counter and getting close enough to smell his cologne. “You’ll be at the re-opening?”

He nods and his face is so close his shaggy hair brushes against my forehead. “And I’ll be dancing with ABBA lovers only.”

“That’s a pretty high bar you’re setting,” I laugh and back away before I do something I know I’ll regret. I don’t kiss my employees and whether or not he works here, he’s still getting paid for the work I commissioned and that makes him an employee by extension. “Later.” I turn for the front door and push it open.

“I’m sure you can meet it,” I hear him call out just as I walk outside and I can’t help but smile.

TBC in Chapter 2


End file.
